


No One Likes an Edgy Vint

by geekyjez



Series: Isii Lavellan [26]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 03:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4004383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While the group stays in a tavern for the night, Iron Bull decides to encourage Dorian to let off a little steam with one of the serving girls working there, unaware of Dorian's preferences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Likes an Edgy Vint

**Author's Note:**

> _For a tumblr prompt: "Before Bull and Dorian are together (and before Dorian is out), Bull tries to cheer him up by introducing him to a woman with the obvious intent of playing wing-man. This doesn’t go well."_

“Leaving so soon?” Isii cooed, tugging gently on Solas’s sleeve as she propped herself up against the bar. “Come on. Stay for one more drink.”

He gave her a warm smile, amused as he leaned in and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I would seek my entertainment in the Fade rather than search for it at the bottom of a bottle. We have an early morning ahead of us and I do not wish to climb the mountain passes between here and Skyhold with a hangover.”

She grinned as she brought her drink to her lips, her cheeks already warmed from rum. “Always so practical, vhenan.”

“One of us has to be.”

She giggled, leaning forward to kiss him, sloppily groping at the front of his tunic. “I’ll see you later then,” she murmured. As Solas withdrew, she slipped herself off of the barstool, her eyes scanning the tavern. Bull’s horns made him easy to spot and she sauntered over to their table, downing another swig.

She could tell as she drew near that it had been a mistake to leave Bull and Dorian alone. Bull looked fine, but whatever he was saying was not sitting well with the mage. Dorian scowled, his lips pursed tightly. The Qunari spotted her approach, beaming. “Hey, Boss!” he called, waving her over. Isii pulled an empty chair up to their table, slumping into it as Bull nodded over toward the back of the tavern. “The one with the dark hair over in the corner. Red dress.” Isii followed his gaze, turning in her seat and scanning the room. Her eyes settled on an olive-skinned serving girl. Her long black hair fell messily from a halfhearted attempt to tie it back from her face, her dress cut tight and low. While her attire was not as scandalous as the clothing Isii had seen on women loitering outside of the brothel they’d passed, it still left little to the imagination in terms of her curvature. In a place like this, it probably earned her extra coin from men hoping to woo her with their purse strings. She was admittedly beautiful, though her expression was worn from a long day of waiting on customers.

“I know you like their ears pointy,” Bull continued, “but what do you think?”

Isii shrugged, turning back around. “I wouldn’t kick her out of my bed,” she said.

“See?” Bull said with a laugh, shoving Dorian’s shoulder. The Tevinter glared at him.

“I said no.”

Isii frowned. “What’s this about?”

“I was telling him he should get the girl’s attention. Loosen up for a bit. He’s been far too uptight lately. No one likes an edgy Vint.”

Dorian’s eyes narrowed. “For the last time, Bull, I am not interested in bedding some cast-off from a sweaty little Ferelden tavern.”

“Don’t be like that,” Bull chided. “Besides, she looks like she could use a little pick me up herself.”

“ _Not. Interested.”_ Dorian said pointedly.

“Venak hol,” Bull muttered before pinching his lips, giving a sharp whistle. The serving girl looked up.

“Bull!” Dorian hissed. The Qunari disregarded him, waving the woman over to their table.

“Is this really necessary?” Isii asked, eyeing Bull. Dorian gave her a quick, pleading look. She pursed her lips, frowning as she reached for her coin purse.

“What can I do for you?” the woman asked.

“Hey,” Bull began, clapping Dorian on the back. “My friend here is really-”

“Hush,” Isii said quickly, shooting him a look. Bull frowned, his eye narrowing in confusion yet he obeyed all the same. Isii gave the woman a wide smile, pressing a few coins into her hand. “Can I get a second on the rum?” she asked, tapping the rim of her cup. The woman nodded, staring down into her palm.

“This is too much…”

“Keep the extra,” the elf urged her. The woman smiled warmly.

“Well aren’t you a sweet thing? I’ll be right back with your drink.”

Bull waited for the woman to be out of earshot before he spoke. “What was that about, Boss?”

“He’s clearly not in the mood, Bull,” she said, taking another swig from her cup, still half-full of liquor. “Why don’t you just call it a night?”

He eyed her for a moment before shrugging. “Can’t say I didn’t try,” he grumbled as he downed the rest of his drink. He picked himself up from his seat, grunting slightly as he nodded. “See you in the morning then. Bright and early.”

“Counting on it,” Isii said, watching as he withdrew, listening to the wood stairs creak under his weight as he strode up to the rooms she’d reserved for the night.

Dorian rubbed his brow. “I spend half the evening trying to talk him out of it and a single word from you shuts him up.”

“As far as he’s concerned, he takes his orders from me,” Isii said with a shrug. “It’s as simple as that.”

“It’s because he respects you,” Dorian said.

“Give it some time.”

The man scoffed. “The idea that Bull would ever respect anything I have to say is laughable at best.”

Isii paused to smile at the serving girl as she set down her new drink. The elf nudged it towards Dorian, still nursing the cup she held in her hand. “You’re going to help me drink that. Otherwise I’ll need you to carry me upstairs later.”

He picked it up, taking a cautionary sniff that made his face instantaneously sour. “Smells wretched.” She shrugged, laughing at the face he made upon his first sip. He set down the cup, his features softening. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

She leaned forward in her seat, lowering her voice. “You know, it would be easier if you just told him the truth. He wouldn’t care.”

“Give it a few days and then everyone would know,” he said quietly. “It’s how such news tends to travel, in my experience.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

He hesitated, his gaze fixed on the table. “I’m not quite ready for that, I suppose.”

She reached forward, resting her hand over his. “Hey, no pressure. Your secret’s safe with me until you change your mind,” she said. His eyes lifted for a moment, meeting hers before he offered up a small grin.

“Thank you.” He drew away from her hand, taking another swig of the rum before grunting, his lips curled in disgust. “Maker, I need to refine your tastes in liquor.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I’m sure you’ll start working on that soon enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Translation:  
> Venak hol – “wearing one” in Qunlat. A mild insult.


End file.
